With Scars I Can't Forget
by DropDead-Cunt
Summary: It's Draco's sixteenth birthday. A big occasion. But something happens and he is mentally and emotionally scarred, leading to changes in his behavior in his sixth year. What happened that made him the way he was in sixth year? Rated M for graphic adult content.


Birthdays weren't always a big thing in the Malfoy household. A kiss and a hug from Mother, proud, encouraging words from Father, and a present from Aunt Bellatrix. But this June 5th, it was different.

Draco was turning sixteen today.

His father had never been so proud of him. Nor had Aunt Bella.

Draco had never been more excited. Today was the day he would get his mission. Today was the day he would be in the Dark Lord's service. Today was the day he would get his Dark Mark.

His birthday was celebrated in great pomp and nearly all his relatives came, most of whom he hadn't seen since he was five. Draco was so happy; this was the best birthday he'd ever had.

"Draco, Draco, come here!" Aunt Bella shrieked happily over all the noise and chatter, interrupting his thoughts. Draco walked over to her, smiling.

"Yes, Aunt Bella?"

"Draco, come with me upstairs. I have to give you your present." Aunt Bella was practically jumping up and down with glee. Draco laughed and followed her up the stairs. As he walked behind her, he noticed his mother sitting on the couch, talking to a relative, but she had a sort of vacant, uninterested look in her eyes. In fact, she was the only one not smiling. Draco thought it was a little weird but he dismissed the thought as he followed Aunt Bella into his room.

Draco sat down on the bed, looking around his room. It was large and white, with varying degrees of grey and black fading into the white, with one large window letting in the sunlight; it was one of the few things he got to choose. Father decided most of his life for him. At least where actions are concerned. He took a glance at Aunt Bella, who was locking door. Draco frowned. There was no need to lock the door, just for a present.

"Aunt Bella, there's no need to lock the door," said Draco, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yes, there is, sweetie. Now let me give you your present." Bella opened the door to his armoire and started searching for his gift. Draco stood by, watching her avidly. She pulled out a lumpy-looking parcel and handed it to him. Draco ripped open the parcel and let out a gasp, as brilliant blue-green folds of silk spilled to the floor. He held them up, the robes shimmering iridescent in the white sunlight.

"Oh, Aunt Bella, it's beautiful! I've had my eye on this for so long but Father would never let me have them. He said no son of his would be walking down the streets in such absurd colors—it was either black or nothing. How did you know?" Draco exclaimed in exhilaration. He held them up to his body and looked in the full-length mirror, admiring the robes.

"Your mother sent me a letter a couple years ago," Bella laughed. "Telling me how much you wanted them. She wanted to buy them for you, but Lucius wouldn't let her."

"I love it. Thank you, Aunt Bella," Draco whispered, smiling. Imagine the look on Father's face when he saw what Aunt Bella had given him. It would be a memory worth remembering.

"Why don't you put it on now? Then everyone can see how wonderful you look in them," Bellatrix suggested.

Draco turned around and unbuttoned his suit coat. He tossed it onto his bed, undid the tie, and started to unbutton his shirt. He turned around to get the robes from his bed but when he did, he saw Aunt Bella still standing there.

"Aunt Bella, can you please leave? I'd like some privacy while changing," asked Draco, a little concerned out that she was watching him change. Not even his mother had done that, only until he could dress himself.

Bella stepped forward to where he was, right in front of him and began to tug at the buttons, in an attempt to pull off his shirt. Draco started to really freak out and tried to shove her away. What was she doing? He was perfectly capable of changing without help. He was wondering what was going on, why she was acting so strangely when she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

"Aunt Bella! What are you doing?! Let me up!" Draco yelled at Bella, struggling beneath her.

Bella pointed her wand at the door, whispered "Muffliato!" and pointed it back at his throat.

"Be quiet, boy," she snarled. "I've waited so long for this. So, so long."

"What do you mean by that?!" Draco was scared now. He'd never been so scared in his entire life.

"Unfortunately, your mummy wouldn't let you out of her sight every time I visited. She was worried, worried that I'd hurt you, like I did others. But now that she's not here, you're mine."

Draco's eyes widened in fear. So this was why she had locked the door earlier. To trap him and hurt him in some unimaginable way that only she would even dare to dream of. He struggled more underneath her, but she was heavy. She kept him pinned to the bed.

Swiftly, she undid his belt and tugged off his trousers, throwing them to the floor. With the same swiftness, she pulled off her own dress. Draco's eyes widened, partly in uncontrollable lust, partly in shock and horror. He suddenly felt himself becoming hard and wet. He blushed in embarrassment, beating himself for thinking in such a perverse way.

"Like that, do you?" Bellatrix purred, arching her back and licking her blood-red lips. She was clad in lacy black lingerie, with lace stockings, complete with six-inch stiletto heels. Her large breasts were pushed up by her bra in the most revealing way possible. Her long skinny legs were spread wide open, each covered with ripped lace stockings, finished off with the deadliest heels Draco had ever seen. Between her legs… oh God, Draco refused to look there. She slowly laid herself upon him, stroking his body, up and down, up and down, in a rhythmic motion.

Draco shuddered, struggling to break free. Was this really happening to him? Could it? It must be a nightmare. It has to be. Aunt Bella would never do such a thing… would she? If she wouldn't, then why would his mother be so worried? Draco realized this with horror and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to happen. A single tear, building up, rolled down his cheek. This was really, truly happening to him and there was no way he could escape. He was trapped in hell.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. You're a big boy, aren't you, Draco? You can take a little pain, can't you?" Bellatrix's shrill voice startled Draco, but he didn't open his eyes. He just nodded numbly, blocking everything out. He didn't want to see anything, hear anything, taste anything, feel anything. He didn't want any of this. He'd rather be at the mercy of Lord Voldemort, than here, with this… demon. He'd rather die.

Bellatrix ran her hand down his chest, his stomach, down his boxers. She ran her hand down his length, playing with it, making it so hard, it hurt. The next thing Draco knew, his boxers were ripped off and he felt her hand touching him everywhere in that area. It was hurting him a lot and he could feel himself building up slowly. He tried to block out the pain but he couldn't. When she grasped him, he gasped, with pain and with pleasure. As much as he hated this, he couldn't help feeling a little alive.

Suddenly, he felt something soft and fleshy being probed at him. He didn't know what it was, but he refused to open his eyes. Then he felt it slide down all the way, and back up, and back down again, up, down, up, down. Now he knew. So this is what it was like… to feel like this and enjoy it, but with someone you loved. Not someone you were related to. His father had taken away pretty much everything in his life and now his aunt was taking away the one thing he thought he would able to give away, with love, with pain, with all of him. She took away his virginity and he would never forgive her for that.

Draco felt the pace quicken, harder and faster. He knew it would hurt, but not like this… and certainly, not mentally and emotionally. The pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt before—and he, of all people, knew pain. His father started beating him since the age of eleven, mostly using his fists, when he came home, drunk and with a terrible temper. He'd also use his wand and Crucio him until Draco was left on the floor, curled up in a ball, screaming and sobbing. Lately, Draco's father had taken to slapping him across the face and using the cane. He had scars all over his body from this abuse. But this… this was beyond that. He was building up inside and that hurt worse than anything else, but he held back. He wouldn't give her that sick, twisted pleasure from fucking her own nephew.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, when it seemed like Aunt Bella was done, he couldn't take it and let himself go. It all happened in a rush. His eyes flew open, grey and startled, dilated in pain. His body tensed up and shook. His hands clenched the sheets so tight; they turned even paler than already possible. He tried not to, but he couldn't help it and screamed. Then he was limp, exhausted and numb. He couldn't move. He couldn't see. He couldn't do anything. Every part of him hurt like hell.

Suddenly, a vice-like grip was on his neck, pinning him to the bed. Draco blindly flailed around, choking, trying to get Bella's hand off his neck.

"Tell anyone, boy, and it'll be the last thing you do. Ever." Bellatrix hissed, her hair touching his face.

Draco nodded and she let go, all the air rushing back to his lungs. He gasped and opened his eyes blearily. He saw her blurry figure pick up her clothes and shut the door behind her as she left. He slowly picked himself off the bed and staggered to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, hot and hard, and stepped in, sweaty and dirty. He stood and let the water rain down on his head, plastering his white hair to his forehead. As he stood there, he let the tears flow, knowing no matter how hard he scrubbed himself clean, he would still be marred for life.


End file.
